Join in with your own – no sources, though. Totally anonymous.
“My bling is getting smelly.”
“I’m pitching Leprechaun shifter romance. Just the right height for gettin’ lucky.”
“I need a picture of your tits!”
“Excuse me, would you scowl for Twitter?”
“Your shoes are orgasmic.”
“I see your books next to my mom’s books, Ms. Roberts. You must be doing really well!”
“They want a partial!”
“I love to work on my creative process.”
“Taking into account his height and the breadth of his shoulders, I was wondering how thick it was.”
“I want my first sale ribbon. Now.”
“Why does my tequila taste like cigarette smoke?”
“How did I lose a pair of shoes? In one room?”
“Oh, yeah, that nipple was way too big for the cover.”
“I HIT THE TIMES!”
“Watching her fuck was disturbing.”
“My characters tell me what to do. I have to listen to them.”
“Why does this Jelly Belly taste like gasoline.”
“I kid you not, mother fucking Corn Nuts.”
Now I’m suffering serious RWA withdrawal…. ::sigh::
Here is one:
The curling iron was used in an interesting way.
“I HIT THE SKIDS!”
“I need a picture of my tits . . . just to remind myself they’re not part of my belly.”
“Why does my gin and tonic taste like the urinal?”
“They want my wisdom teeth!”
“Oh, yeah, that ego was way too big for the quality of the text.”
“I’m pitching dirty-underwear-fetish romance, just so I don’t have to launder the damned things.”
“Watching him beg was pathetic . . . but gratifying.”
“Excuse me, would you piss in this cup for the DC police?”
“My characters tell me to go fuck myself. I have to listen to them, but I wish the deadbeats would at least pay for the dildoes.”
“I love to work on my schmooze.”
“How did I lose my virginity? Again?”
“Your navel merits intense gazing.”
“Is RWA still relevant? How? Why? For whom? I need some splainin.”
(Okay, maybe those were just the voices in my head.)
KZ Snow – You’re my heroine! I HATE when authors talk about being bossed around by their characters. The analyst in my head always notes, “Hmmmm – that’s a sign of dissociative disorder…”
The comment about the author with the big ego made me laugh. There is one author with a debut coming out soon who loves herself so very much. It made me think of her.
“Face it. Women are smarter than men.”
“If this doesn’t work, I am going to have to sing. And none of us will enjoy that.”
“And here I thought that fire alarm was Nora smoking in the bathroom.”
Ten bucks says this person was trying to convince someone that Sandra “The Culinary Anti-Christ” Lee really did make a Kwanzaa cake that was sprinkled with Corn Nuts. No, seriously. Watch it here.
Chicklit, good call. That’s gotta be it.
And if you’ve heard of the monstrosity that is Sandra Lee’s Kwanzaa cake, you need to check out this blogger’s post and Flickr stream about MAKING IT. Bourbon was involved.